


Dead Awake

by ElnaK



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Awake (TV), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Hallucinations, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Timelines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-08-10 19:58:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20141140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElnaK/pseuds/ElnaK
Summary: Steve awakes, and he's wearing a gold wristband, Tony died taking a bullet for him, and Registration is still running.Until he falls asleep.Then he awakes, and he's wearing a red wristband, Tony was killed in retaliation of Steve's shooting, and the Secret Avengers are on the run.





	1. repeat

**Author's Note:**

> Have you seen the 2012 TV show Awake? No? Well, the protagonist had a car accident, and after that he switches between two realities whenever he falls asleep, one in which his son died and his wife lived, and one in which his son lived and his wife died. It's implied that he's having break down in reality ( but which reality is the real one? ) but since they never made it past the first season I can decide whatever I want about what actually happened.
> 
> And yes, switching between timelines is so something that could happen in 616, I had to do it.  
What I didn't have to do was kill Tony in both timelines, but hey, I do what I want.

To be honest, Steve wasn't quite sure when, how, or why exactly it happened.

But.

It happened.

**oOo**

The approximate moment it started, Steve would later suppose, was the morning of his trial. If he were to try to recall the exact situation of that morning, here was what it would look like: things being as they were, he'd woken up in the apartment / cell in Manhattan he'd been kept at after the first week in the Raft, after Stark had come by and stood as Steve had spewed the ugly truth at him, not even taking the helmet off.

Then...

At some point from there, things happened. Several things. Which one exactly was the cause for this, he didn't know. But they all mattered, one way or another – if not all were about the matter at hand.

**oOo**

Steve was already standing when the SHIELD agents came for him, to escort him to the courthouse – New York, public, civil, not military, and he wasn't sure whether it was for the best or to mock him, because he'd get to say what he had to say, because it wasn't about the military only, it was about civil rights, it was... or because they'd parade him around, because they'd make a show of his surrender. Just to be safe, he'd assume it was the latter.

Because apparently it was better to always assume the worst from Tony, he'd finally understood that – too late, though; and... maybe it hadn't been Tony's choice, not his decision, maybe this wasn't because of Tony, but. It would always be better to assume the worst from Stark, right?

So this was all Stark's fault, and of course there was no good intentions hidden behind any of it, because that was what they had become, now.

He'd written a letter to Tony, if...

Maybe he shouldn't have.

But he guessed, no matter the outcome, if he died, Steve would rather have tried – saving Bucky, keeping the dream alive – even if it didn't actually happen, because... Because he'd have tried his best, then. If it didn't happen it wouldn't be his fault.

It'd be Stark's.

So Steve was already standing, in his Captain America uniform – was that a good thing, because he still stood by what he'd done, or at least, by what he'd meant by it, and he didn't want anyone to think otherwise? Was that a bad thing, because they'd be parading him around, again? He didn't know, but he guessed, in the end, that it was for the best if he assumed the worst from Stark, right?

The agents checked his handcuffs, and Steve let them do it.

Not because he believed they were right to, but because he'd surrendered – because he'd seen the consequences of their fighting, and on that point at least, if only on that point... Stark had been right. Except for the fact that Stark had been right there fighting, too. The consequences were his too.

Because he'd surrendered, and he wasn't going to change his mind now.

They walked out of the cell, and just as they were going to board the vehicle of the marshals waiting for him – who, then, would get him to the courthouse – Steve caught sight of a glint of red in the corner of his eye.

He stopped – no one said anything, not yet, at least, because there still was some respect for Captain America, even amongst SHIELD, apparently – and turned his head to look.

There.

Red and gold.

Anthony Stark himself – well, no, Iron Man – giving an order or another – because he liked doing that, didn't he, Stark? All about control, all about what he wanted – to a SHIELD agent, and possibly keeping an eye on his transfer, because of course they couldn't be trusted – who? Steve himself? Afraid he'd make a run for it? The agents? Afraid one of them cared just a bit too much about free will and the possibility of getting Captain America out of custody no matter the means?

Steve gritted his teeth as Iron Man looked in his direction for a moment, and turned back.

Time to face the music.

“Come on, we have a trial waiting for me to begin.”

Certainly not time to say anything more to Stark.

**oOo**

Steve felt the U.S. Mashals' reinforced vehicle stop, and guessed they'd arrived. The marshals with him checked that everything was secure – again, and he wanted to say something about how he wasn't going to escape now, but he guessed they heard that all the time – before the doors opened, and Steve saw the crowd outside for the first time.

There were people out there who defended him, who were against SHRA... but he also saw signs that condemned him, that said he shouldn't get away with what he'd done – what had he done, except defend his rights? But the thought of the streets on fire, because of them, streets where people lived, worked, walked, streets that meant something, maybe not to him, but to others, stopped him short.

He'd stood against SHRA because he believed that, indeed, superheroes would hold themselves accountable without the need for governmental supervision, so perhaps he should start there. Show them that indeed, just because he was Captain America, he wasn't going to ignore his mistakes.

He wouldn't let them pin more than what he had done on him, though.

He was there because he'd fucked up with the last fight, not because he was wrong, no matter what they said about it.

Stark, of course, was nowhere to be seen – was it for the better, because Steve didn't want his gloating presence here on the street? Was it for the worst, because Stark couldn't even stand by what he'd done? In the end, he'd rather believe the worst from Anthony Stark, because then he couldn't be disappointed anymore.

The various TV crews, the journalists – in another time, Peter might have been there too, and Steve wouldn't have even known that Spider-Man was out there snapping pictures of him, but thanks to Stark, that was another era – even some random people were asking him questions, and the marshals answered in his stead – no comments.

Steve could say he felt angry that he was forbidden to speak for himself, but also rather thankful, because he had nothing to say right now, not considering what he was here to do, not in this situation, not without undermining his own plans – standing proud of his choices, but acknowledging that it had gone too far this time.

The marshals were not, in this situation, the ones to be blamed. So he'd rather expect the – maybe not the best, but at least a certain measure of consideration towards him, because they were doing their jobs, and he knew all too well that sometimes being protected from the press could be a good thing, better than the alternative.

Then.

“Since when does Captain America surrender?! Loser!”

Steve had to stop himself from reacting, from jumping away out of instinct as a projectile flew at his head – it was only a tomato, as it was.

One of the marshals – the darker-skinned one, the one who semeed to be the most considerate towards Steve, given the circumstances – turned around to confront the man who'd thrown the tomato, and...

**oOo**

In retrospection, Steve should perhaps consider the fact that this tomato could have been the reason, the trigger, but still.

A tomato.

A tomato thrown at him hardly registered as a threat, and it was unlikely that it actually was how it had all started.

The thing was, the things Steve had seen in this life... He honestly didn't think the tomato was the trigger. He had no doubt that the tomato-thrower wasn't the guilty party. But he couldn't say that it definitely wasn't it. Being stuck in this situation through a tomato thrown at his head might seem ridiculous, preposterous, but all in all...

It could be it.

Probably not.

But it could be.

**oOo**

He spotted the red dot before anyone else, of course. Right there, on the back of the marshal's jacket. He turned to look at the surrounding buildings – there, the open window, and the glint of light on metal – there wasn't any time.

Something moved on the other side of him, the sound of rushed footsteps across the crowd, almost drowned out by the voices around them, and Steve wondered if someone else had seen it too, if perhaps...

But he didn't have the time to check, and if two people reacted – not only him – maybe there wouldn't be any casualties, but in the meantime he had to assume this wasn't the case, the rushed footsteps were some journalist's who wanted to know more than the others, that this wasn't someone here to help him, so he had to do what he'd do if he was the only one who'd noticed.

It was pretty obvious that the marshal wasn't the actual target – well, okay, someone might be gunning for him personally, but given the circumstances it was more than likely that Steve, no, Captain America, was the actual target – and if Steve was going to be gunned down, he'd rather there'd be no collateral damages.

If possible he'd rather not die at all, of course, and he'd do everything for that to happen on top of protecting everyone else, and maybe the other – hypothetical – person would be able to ensure that while Steve got the marshal out of the way, but if he absolutely had to...

“No...”

He gnashed his teeth, but the choice was already made.

“Damn it to hell.”

He'd show them all what it really meant to be a hero – yes, even you, Stark – he'd do the right thing even towards the ones who wanted him jailed.

“Look out!”

He wasn't the one who shouted, though.

The voice was familiar, but he...

He still pushed the marshal out of the way, because that was the right thing to do, no matter the price to himself, no matter...

With his hands bounds he had no other choice than to stumble as well, and then...

The sound of a rifle shooting. A moment later – almost at the same moment – the burn of a bullet through his collarbone – right through, from his back to the front, and then out again – except...

Something wasn't right.

Steve felt weird for a moment – on top of the pain, he'd learned how to ignore the pain a long time ago – and then he was on the ground – it was alright, he knew wounds, and frankly this one wasn't going to kill him unless they didn't get it treated, he was going to live and be told what had happened exac...

Voices around him, screams, and someone talking with hurried words, but not to him, not only to him – yes, he was alright, kind of, no, it was okay, but what had happened, what...

Sharon's voice, from just a bit further away, calling his name.

He looked up, and – Sharon couldn't get over here, there were already too many people, all in SHIELD uniforms too, except for the marshals, and the journalists were kept well away, and they were keeping an eye on Steve, making sure no one tried anything again, and smoke was getting out of the window where the sniper had been, and Steve was – Steve was missing something, something wasn't right – who had shot him, he'd made so many enemies in his life, he'd...

But none quite as problematic as Stark, right?

He'd have liked to say Tony would never have hired someone to shoot him – even in a non-life-threatening way – except, except he'd learned the hard way that with Stark it was always best to assume the worst, if only so as not to be disappointed, hadn't he?

Not to say Steve thought Tony was the one behind this all, but maybe...

The bullet wound in his collarbone made him grit his teeth – or was that the very possibility that Stark had done this? – and Steve closed his eyes for a moment, trying to focus.

That was when he heard it for the first time.

Loud and clear amongst the other voices, in the ambiant chaos.

Impossible.

“Director down! I repeat, Director Stark is down!”

Steve's eyes shot open, and.

Steve had been missing something alright.

Not even three feet from him, about at the same level – on the ground, that was why he hadn't seen, because he'd been looking up, searching for... for what, already? – there laid Stark, unmoving. Steve knew that if he looked up he'd see the smoking window further away, because...

Had the footsteps been Tony's? But he'd come from the other side, and – and Steve had turned around to push the marshal away, and Tony had...

And Tony had...

Stark had positioned himself between the sniper and Steve while Steve had positioned himself between the marshal and the sniper.

Steve blinked – how had Stark known? – his eyes stuck on the man's face.

The was blood – a lot of blood – dripping down his forehead and onto the ground, but Steve couldn't see a wound, and that was good news, right? He wondered where the blood was coming from, but...

And then he saw Tony's – Stark's eyes.

Steve wasn't sure what happened then, because he felt wrong again, and passed out not long after.

**oOo**

That was when it really started, no matter what the trigger had been.

This, despite everything else, wasn't a difficult conclusion to reach.

As evidenced by what happened when Steve woke up again.

**oOo**

Steve woke up with a sharp breath, and.

Nothing.

He was still in his cell. This had all been a dream – Steve had his fair share of problems, and PTSD might be one of them, but anxiety wasn't part of it, but he guessed dreaming about what could go wrong this day was entirely plausible, considering he was putting himself in a position of vulnerability, in public, when he already had so many enemies, more than a few willing to see him die. As for Stark dying in his dreams...

Well. That could be his anger talking.

It wouldn't be the first time.

He'd keep an eye open, because the things he'd seen in this life... you didn't just dismiss the possiblity of time-travel, or premonitory dreams, but all in all, he didn't think there was much to it.

So Steve got up, and prepared himself for the arrival of the SHIELD agents and marshals who'd take him to his trial. And if things were to go more or less the same way as in his dream, well. He'd be careful, but he also knew he knew the protocol pretty well. It wasn't like he couldn't have had a realistic dream about this.

**oOo**

The SHIELD agents – the same ones as in his dream, except he'd already seen them the day before so of course that didn't mean anything – told him the exact same things as in his dream about half the time, and they did some things the same way, some things another way. No way to say for sure if there was something suspicious about it.

They got out to transfer him to the marshals, and then...

A glint of red and gold in the corner of his eye.

Steve stopped – one of the agents frowned, but didn't say a thing, not for now, because apparently some of them still had some respect for Captain America, and hadn't Steve thought exactly the exact same thing in his dream? – and turned to look at Iron Man talking to another SHIELD agent, probably giving some order or another, because that was who he was now, the Director of SHIELD.

Steve wondered if, maybe, this was also to keep an eye on them, because...

Well.

He'd already had this thought, hadn't he?

He wasn't quite sure if that meant...

Maybe he should say something.

But what?

It wasn't like Stark would listen to him.

And he didn't even know if anything was actually going to happen.

But...

Steve stopped looking at Stark, because he didn't want to outright call him out, yet still spoke loudly enough to be heard, and not only by the agents next to him.

“Come one, I have to play shooting target on the way to my trial. It would be a damn shame if I didn't reach the stand, after all.”

The SHIELD agents gave him a weird look, one of them whispering in his mic, and they started moving again.

Steve didn't look back to watch Iron Man's reaction – there wasn't much to see, with the armor on, anyway. And for all he knew, dream-Stark himself had paid the sniper.

Not that it was going to happen again, of course.

**oOo**

When Steve walked out of the marshals' transport vehicle, he was surprised to see – the same crowd, with more or less the same signs for or against him, the same people as far as he could tell, except for those who weren't exactly at the same place as he remembered, a white guy who was altogether not there, or at least not visible, a black woman he hadn't noticed the first time around, and with his eidetic memory that meant something – Anthony Stark himself, standing just before the stairs to the courthouse, with several SHIELD agents surrounding him and keeping the journalists at bay.

That hadn't happened in his dream – but, maybe Stark had come because of what he'd said. It didn't have to mean anything, especially as, even if Steve hadn't seen Stark in his dream at first, the fact that the man had died in front of him meant he had in fact been there.

Stark, anyway, barely gave him a look, before looking at – something else. Probably focusing on external feeds thanks to Extremis, given that he didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular, but still had that focused look of his on.

So Steve barely stopped a moment, squinting at the lone figure – Stark had several people with him, true, but he looked unexpectedly alone amongst the SHIELD uniforms – as he noticed the armor had gone – the picture of Stark's dead eyes came to his mind, and he wondered why the man hadn't had the armor on back in the dream, when that would have saved them both, as long as the sniper wasn't using some particular, heavy-duty munitions.

Then again, dreams didn't always make sense. Because this one had been unexpectedly realist didn't mean it hadn't had flaws.

Then he squarred his shoulders, and before the journalists could turn around to see what he'd been looking at, he caught their attention again by following the marshals to the courthouse.

He couldn't help but wonder if Tony was there because he was worried about what might happen after what Steve had said earlier... or if Stark was there because he'd commissioned the sniping and wanted to be here to make sure things went smoothly, considering Captain America seemed to know something.

It was giving a bit too much credit to his dream, for things to go on the same way as what had happened in it, and not enough at the same time, because if Stark had commissioned the sniping, then why had Tony taken the bullet for him?

Aside from Stark's presence, and a few questions thrown his way by the journalists, things went mostly the same as in Steve's dream, up till...

Steve noticed the movement right away, as he'd been waiting for it.

Except it didn't go the right way, towards him, at all.

The words weren't the same either.

In fact, there was only one word this time.

“Facist!”

And a tomato thrown at Stark, instead.

Steve and the marshals stopped for a moment, as Stark wiped away the tomato on his face, and the SHIELD agents around him put their hands on their guns out of instinct.

As a few other people in the crowd cheered the man who'd thrown the tomato, and started insulting Stark while they were at it, Steve noticed the man's sudden frown, and the way his eyes shifted to...

The open window.

Steve's head whipped around, and yes, there, the red dot on the marshal's jacket.

This time he was the one to shout.

“Look out!”

And he pushed the marshal out of the way just as he heard the shot – he took the bullet fully this time, no one for it to go through first, because Stark was over there with the SHIELD agents in the way, and it hurt just as much, except...

The weird feeling he'd had the first time around – it couldn't have been just a dream, no, not possible, not with everything else going on – didn't happen, and Steve didn't know what it meant, but he knew that it meant something.

**oOo**

Later, when he'd wake up for the second time, he'd wonder if maybe that had been the moment it had all gone pear-shaped, that weird feeling the first time he'd been shot at the courthouse.

Then he'd wonder if maybe the problem was that he should have felt it the second time too, and he hadn't.

Except that wouldn't make any sense, because there would still be the fact that it had happened two times.

**oOo**

Same as the first time, Steve could tell he hadn't been fatally wounded. Sure, it hurt, and he wasn't much help right now, and if they didn't do something about it it would propably be a problem, but he wasn't going to die right here, right now.

He heard the screams, and felt almost – good, or at least, relieved – that this time, it was only about him, not about...

Steve managed to look up, past his own wound, to make sure that Tony was still over there, and not unmoving and unseeing on the ground next to him, to make sure...

Two seconds later, he was doing his best not to throw up on the rapidly diminishing crowd as – what was happening, what... oh. Falcon had gotten him and was trying to carry him out of there, Sam was here, despite the marshals shouting at him to get them down or they'd shoo...

Another detonation down there shook Steve through the bones, and when he looked down too, despite the hole in his collarbone and the frankly awkward fact that Sam was going to have to put them down soon because Steve was just too heavy, he saw that everyone – the SHIELD agents, the marshals – were looking somewhere else, at Stark, who was...

Steve couldn't see Stark anymore, and for a moment he thought he'd left.

Then he saw a leg lying on the ground where Tony had been standing, he understood that the SHIELD agent next to it was trying to do whatever they could to save someone, and not just crouching down for the hell of it, and...

Just as Sam put him down on the roof of a building – just as Steve's innards seemed to slosh inside him – he caught a glance of someone running away from the marshals and the agents, who couldn't shoot because of the crowd.

He also heard Nick Fury's voice, calling for him to stay with them, but...

**oOo**

Steve woke up with a sharp pain at his collarbone, and.

He blinked at the hospital-white of the walls around him, and sagged back in the bed.

It wasn't his cell again.

It was...

Before the truth could settle – if it wasn't a dream, if he'd been shot, if he still had the wound, if it had been real, then...

“_Congratulations, Captain, you've slept about two weeks. I'm pretty sure you haven't rested that much in a decade. In fact, last time was probably much colder that this time, so, kudos for this.”_

Steve jolted around, and...

The handcuffs on his right side brought him right back in his bed.

“_Careful, you're still a felon in regards to the law, Captain.”_

Stark was sitting there, in a chair at the far end of the hospital room – so, not that far away – and he looked...

Well.

Normal.

Healthy.

And also dangerously polished, the kind of look Stark used to sell to the press, to people he didn't care about, people who didn't know him, who didn't get to see past the facade.

Exactly what Steve would have expected after everything that had happened between them lately.

Except for the fact that.

Well.

He'd seen him dead.

Or had he?

What had this been...

A door opened, and a marshal, a nurse, a doctor and Nick Fury walked in.

Steve blinked at this beginning of a bad joke, and turned his head back to look at Stark, who was still sitting in his chair, eyebrows raised.

“_This is the beginning of a bad joke, I can feel it.”_

Steve almost said something.

And then didn't.

He frowned back at his visitors, who didn't even glance at Stark. The doctor looked over her glasses at him, her lips pinched.

“Captain Rogers, first of all, I'd like to inform you you were unconscious for thirteen days.”

The doctor waited for an indication of his understanding, so Steve glanced at Stark, who tipped an imaginary hat, as if to say “see, I didn't lie to you”, for a moment, before nodding back at the woman, who cleared her throat, frowned in thought, and went on.

“You've been shot on your way to your trial, if you recall. The bullet went right through Anthony Stark's skull before going through your collarbone. We had no issue treating the wound itself, but the little blood and brain matter the bullet took with it and into your body was another story, which ended up in a infection that took us some more time to deal with. Everything seems to be back in order, though. I'd still like you to be careful and inform us if anything, and I mean, anything, seems out of place. Between the serum and Extremis, we'd rather not have any surprise.”

There she gave him a look – the I-know-agents-and-I-know-superheroes-and-I-know-you-won't-but-you-still-should look – so Steve nodded again, dutifully.

She squinted at him all the time it took the nurse to make sure Steve was alright, which, considering Steve wasn't telling her that Stark was right here even though he should be dead, was probably fair.

Maybe there was nothing to tell. Maybe Stark was there, and...

And what?

He'd survived a bullet through the skull?

Before Steve could say anything – he was feeling a bit lost, to be honest, and that probably had something to do with the fact he'd lived his shooting twice and he supposed the right version of events was the first one, considering how the doctor had summarized the event, but then what had been the second version? Had that version been a dream, finally, and not the first one? – the doctor and the nurse left, leaving only the marshal and Fury in the room with Steve – and Stark, except...

The marshal took a step, told him his trial had been rescheduled for the next week, supposing he didn't relapse, and added that they'd discuss his transfer later in the afternoon, before leaving too.

Which left Steve with Fury – and Stark.

The man continued squinting at Steve for a moment, and just as Steve was about to say something, snorted.

“You know, we'd prepared a way out for you, and then you just had to go and get yourself shot in the middle of it.”

Steve caught Stark rolling his eyes in the corner of his eye.

“_That's all you, that. Always unable to let others deal with anything or at least cooperate with them if you can put a dramatic turn of your own on it instead.”_

Steve decided to just ignore him, because he still wasn't sure if the man was truly here, or...

“What happened, Nick?”

The older man – in looks as well as in chronology, which wasn't something that happened often enough with Steve – turned serious again.

“What happened is that Crossbones was at that window, and Stark caught it before any of us. He sent the armor to detain him, and went to you himself. Which ended exactly the way the doctor told you. With Stark dead and you treated here for two weeks. We're investigating the rest of it.”

Fury's jaw did a thing, and Steve could say he was stopping himself from saying something, but that really wasn't what mattered here.

It really, really wasn't, not when he'd just said...

He did his best not to look at the dead mean sitting at the end of his bed.

“Tony is...”

Fury, blunt as always, said it again.

“Dead. Again. What, did you think Extremis would save him from a headshot? It didn't. Now we're trying to make sure his death wasn't for nothing, so I'd appreciate if you didn't get yourself killed anytime soon.”

Steve's left hand was shaking – why was his left hand shaking? – so he gripped the hospital sheets harder, and didn't say a thing when Fury handed him a small device, saying it would allow them to communicate secretly before the trial and while Fury was wrestling SHIELD back into his own hands – something about the wishes of the dead, about how Stark had been the one to get Nick into that position to begin with, but Steve wasn't really listening at this point.

Just before leaving, Fury added that, after the assassination attempt – it hadn't been an attempt, not when Tony was dead, not even if Steve wasn't, just an assassination – they wouldn't get the chance to free him again, so he should really, really think about what he'd say at his trial.

Steve didn't answer, didn't nod, only gritted his teeth.

The moment the door closed, leaving Steve alone – his head whipped around to stare at the ghost that was still sitting on the other side of the room.

Stark gave him a grin – almost a sneer – and raised both his hands.

“_In my defense, I never said I was Tony Stark.”_

**oOo**

Steve woke up in pain, and.

He looked around wildly – no ghost of Tony Stark that wasn't Tony Stark, and, more than that, no hospital room, no hospital-white.

He'd just fallen asleep in his hospital room, after a glaring contest with the ghost who claimed not to be Stark – well, Steve had glared, and the ghost with a dead man's face had simply smirked at him after having claimed not to be that dead man, as if it was Steve's turn to speak and he wouldn't say a word until Steve did, which had gotten on the supersoldier's nerves and they'd ended up not saying anything for two hours, give or take.

He'd just fallen asleep in his hospital room, and now...

He wasn't there anymore.

He was...

He was in a rather rundown place, if clean enough, and the windows were borded up. There was Steve's uniform folded on an old chair by the door, as well as other clothes on the back of that chair, and a roll of bandages on the nightstand. He could hear voices from behind the wall, but right now he couldn't focus enough on what they said, let alone recognize then, supposing he even knew the people who were talking, which wasn't a given.

He wasn't feeling right, less than he'd been back at the hospital – had there been a hospital? Was it even the same reality? Maybe this was were Tony hadn't taken the bullet for him, maybe this was – but, he'd seen Tony down in here too, hadn't he? Though, he might not be dead, Steve couldn't tell from what he'd seen, supposing this was even...

The door was pushed open a bit, and Steve saw Peter's face appear in a dim light. When the younger man saw he was awake, he pushed the door wide open, and Steve recognized both Jessicas, as well as Luke Cage behind him.

“Cap! You're awake!”

Feeling a bit sluggish, Steve tried to wave a hand at him, but barely managed to raise it to begin with. He really, really wasn't feeling right.

Peter was by his side in a blink, and Steve thought he might have missed the beginning of that sentence, because...

“...range said you'd have a difficult time staying awake the first day or so. I mean, after the shooting, we had a bit of a hard time getting you to safety, especially after what happened with the second shooting, and it might be that you were a bit more roughed up than you should have been in that state, plus I think there was something weird with that bullet, from what I hear SHIELD is all over it, not that they talk to us, but...”

One of the Jessicas – right now Steve couldn't tell them apart – patted Peter on the head and pushed him out of the room.

“Peter, I think Cap needs to rest right now. All he has to know is that he's safe, and he's going to get better. Okay?”

She'd said that last word at Steve, but he was too busy trying to stay awake to answer.


	2. Rehearse

So.

A week passed, and Steve found out what was happening. Kind of.

He still had no idea why, or how, or when. Though, at this point, “when” wasn't particularly important now that it had started – Tony would argue, here, because the when was important if you wanted to figure out what was happening, how it had happened, and how to make it stop, but Tony was a scientist, in the end, he was the one who figured things out, while Steve was the one who punched them out, most of the time.

Not that Tony would actually argue, because Tony was dead.

Yeah, in both timelines.

Yeah, because there were two timelines.

Somehow.

**oOo**

He woke up again in the version of the story where Tony was dead – for him – and yet there was a ghost of Tony Stark haunting him.

Well. Steve said a ghost.

It might be a ghost. Or not. Perhaps it was an interdimensional echo – if that existed, but he'd found out over time that almost everything existed, even the things you'd never have imagined, and if they didn't exist in your universe, then they existed in the universe next door.

“_That's a good question, now. Supposing you aren't having a breakdown, that this isn't an induced hallucination, and that any of this actually exists, does this situation actually imply that you are now living in two alternate timelines? Is it your consciousness shifting between realities, or are you actually being brought forth and back? Timelines, or universes? And, more importantly, is there one which is your original timeline / universe, and what does it mean about the local Captain America if you are piggybacking his life?”_

Steve glared at Tony's ghost-who-apparently-wasn't-Tony-Stark-if-he-was-to-be-believed – which Steve didn't, as a general rule, since Stamford – as the ghost – yes, ghost, suck it, Stark, for now that was how he thought of it – looked at his nails with the look of someone who knew they were getting on their unwilling audience's nerves, but still did it because it was “Important” – or so they said.

“Stop it.”

“_Stop what? Thinking? Pointing out very obvious things? Trying to give you anxiety?”_

That was the thing with Tony: you never knew if he was being sarcastic or serious, mostly because both were somehow true at the same time.

Steve finished packing his things from his hospital room – so, basically, his uniform – under the glare of the marshal who'd been landed with keeping an eye on a grumpy Captain America before he got transferred back to his cell / apartment awaiting his second trial – or attempt at it thereof.

Theoretically he could probably knock him out, but...

“_Then what, Steve? Not only would you probably get yourself shot in the process, which is really not that great a way to get out of a hospital, since we're talking about it, but even so, what after that? Great, you're free. Great, you're hurt. Great, you're back to case A, otherwise called 'fellon on the run from the law'. Do we start it all again, Steve? Did it not cost us too much the first time around, wasn't there a reason you stopped it?”_

The thing about having a ghost who talked your ear out in front of someone else was that you couldn't shut them up because A_ they were immaterial, and B_ people looked at you funny when you started talking back to someone who wasn't there.

So Steve had to resort to mumbling under his breath.

“I know that.”

Stark gave him a look – the one who said you were being obtuse, the one Tony didn't use to aim at him, because Steve had never warranted it, but now, now things were different, and...

But Stark hadn't looked at him like that, even during the height of the confrontations about SHRA, even when...

Had Tony looked at him like that, when Steve had told him he only knew compromise, back when they were both on the bloody helicarrier? Steve didn't remember.

What was certain was that it hurt, and Steve wasn't quite sure why it should, but it did.

“_Of course you do, Steve. If you didn't I wouldn't be here telling you that.”_

And Steve didn't know what Stark was implying, but he was pretty certain he didn't like it – or that he wouldn't once he'd get it.

The ghost got up from the seat he was not-occupying, an unpleasant sneer on his perfect face, and went to stand right before Steve's nose – Steve noticed the twitch the marshal gave, and guessed he'd instinctively straightened up in defiance.

“_The problem with you, Steve, is that you aren't stupid, but somehow you still manage to entirely bypass the obvious unless it's shoved under your nose. So focused you are on the principles you defend, you entirely forget the consequences, the fact that maybe you won't succeed in doing exactly what you want, no matter your good intentions, and then someone will have to handle the mess, but since you aren't the one who does it, Steve...”_

Steve wanted to argue, because it wasn't true, because he did his part and then others had to do theirs too, because it wasn't his job only to make sure the world was fair and good and perfect, because he couldn't do everything alone, in the end. But he remembered Manhattan on fire, the Baxter Building in the orange light of open battle, and the first responders going against him, because he'd had an enormous part in causing that situation, because he had been about to kill Stark, because, because, because...

_And, maybe it's not your job to do everything, Steve, but what about other people? Is it theirs?_ Those thoughts almost came in Stark's voice, but the ghost wasn't saying anything, and this was definitely in Steve's head – then again, what wasn't? Was the ghost here, or was it a hallucination?

Steve didn't agree with Stark, obviously, but he couldn't deny that the ghost had a point. Principles mattered more, they did, he wasn't changing his mind on that, but perhaps he'd stopped seeing the consequences of his own actions for what they were at some point because there had always been someone to handle it all afterwards – as it was, Tony, and before him the army – because someone else had always been there smoothing things over, paying for the damage, making sure everything worked. Because Tony had always been behind him, in one way or another, and the moment he'd left Steve's back... Steve had had to deal with the consequences of his errors like never before.

Had Cloak needed to transport everyone in the middle of the city, instead of somewhere deserted?

He hadn't.

So Steve didn't say anything about that, and simply grunted something about Tony's own problem.

The ghost snorted.

“_As I already told you, I am not Tony Stark. But about him, since that's what you wanted to know, his problem is that he still acts, even when aware of the risks. Or rather, your problem with him is that he still acts, even when aware of the risks, of the consequences, of the imperfections in the consequences. Your problem with him, Steve, isn't that there are consequences to his actions, because there are consequences to yours too. What you have a problem with is that he tells you the consequences to everything, and you still want to believe everything will be great if only you try hard enough, and he wouldn't lie to you about it.”_

“Are you calling me naive?”

Steve had to commend the marshal who kept an eye one him, because so far he'd only twitched and not said a word about the fact that Captain America was mumbling under his breath and visibly discussing with someone who wasn't there. Maybe he thought that was normal when dealing with a grumpy Captain America.

“_You said it, Steve, not me. Now, if you don't want to hear things you don't want to hear, maybe you should just let me say other things you don't want to hear, namely the fact that I am telling you everything you don't want to hear about the situation rather than everything you don't want to hear about yourself. You know, as long as you don't try to make me shut up about it.”_

Steve really had no idea what this was all about – not the timelines things, but the ghost-who-sneered-at-him-in-the-guise-of-Tony-Stark thing – what was the point of it, and what to do about it, so for now he just shut up and let the ghost analyze the attitude of the marshal guarding him and list the possible ways the man was taking in everything that was happening, good and bad and in-between, as they moved to transfer Steve back to his cell.

**oOo**

Steve had gone to sleep at 23:12 with Tony Stark's ghost listing all the ways things could go wrong for him during the upcoming trial, supposing he didn't get shot again – or possibly altogether erased from time by Kang, who knew? – with the slight hope that maybe he'd actually dreamed the alternate timeline – or dimension, perhaps, the ghost was confusing him – and he only really had to deal with the ghost.

Not that he wanted to deal with the ghost, but if he could deal only with the ghost instead of with both the ghost and the shifting timelines, well. He'd take it.

Of course, that hope did not come to pass, as he woke up not in his cell, but in the boarded-up room from the other reality – the one in which there wasn't a ghost of Tony Stark running around, the one in which Steve didn't yet know if Tony was...

He'd heard the gunshot, he'd seen – well, almost – Stark fall, but he hadn't gotten a confirmation. Maybe Stark was alive, if wounded. Maybe Extremis had saved him here.

Steve took a deep breath, and.

God, that hurt.

Right, gunshot. No actual hospital. Though someone had tended to his wound professionally – which he could say because he had an extensive experience of being wounded, despite, or maybe in correlation with his accelerated healing.

Steve braced himself for the pain, and got up from the bed to take a look around. It hurt, yes, but, supersoldier. He could deal with a lot more than most people. Which meant that, yes, it hurt, but it was manageable.

This time no one was around, or at least they didn't come running the moment he woke up. An alarm clock was left on the desk, telling him it was seven twenty-two in the morning – which was late, by Steve's standards, but he guessed getting shot did that to a person? Not that he had a lot of experience getting shot and recovering after that. Oh, wait, he did.

He wondered where the others had gone. Had it been a normal day in his normal life, they'd probably be living their own life, but everyone here was on the run from SHRA, which had probably not been repelled in the time he'd spent asleep, so.

Steve pushed the room's door open, and no, no one. Maybe they were out doing groceries – the question being, was it safer to do it without or without mask, at this point? He didn't know. Wearing a mask was obvious, but not wearing one wasn't much more anonymous, after Stark's contribution to the SHRA. They had to know all their names, now. Especially as Tony had always made a point of knowing as many things as possible about everyone – even if, back then, he wouldn't have used it. Steve still remembered the system Tony had whipped into being to vet new Avengers without even them learning their names – that, and the accidental abuse of it with Rage, who hadn't been eighteen; the system had known it, but they hadn't. Of course anonymity had its problems, but it didn't mean they didn't deserve it.

Now that he took a better look at the place, it wasn't so rundown, in fact. Maybe it had been the boarded-up windows, or maybe it was just the bedroom. And...

Oh. Strange's house. He'd been here before, right? Right.

So.

Strange's house. Which meant Strange had finally decided to intervene. Good to know he was on their side. Could have decided to step in sooner, really. It would have saved them a lot of effort. Maybe it'd have changed the way of the fight, too.

Steve was suddenly taken over by a weird, uncomfortable feeling, and he almost turned around to tell the ghost to shut up, except...

There was no ghost of Tony Stark here. Nothing had been said. He hadn't heard Stark's voice asking him “and then what, Steve?”. There hadn't been an enumeration of all the ways Strange had not necessarily made his choice because he thought Steve was right, that maybe he was doing it because he thought the consequences were not worth the principle or whatever other reason could push him to do what he did – and what he hadn't done beforehand. And that, of course, it didn't mean Strange hadn't done it for the reasons Steve thought, that maybe he had, but there was still the possibility that he hadn't, and _what would you do with that knowledge, Steve?_

There hadn't been, and yet...

No ghost of Tony Stark, right.

Right?

If there wasn't, then how came that Steve had just almost-thought – almost, because he hadn't, not until he had, not until the ghost-who-wasn't-here had brought it to his mind, but how had it done it, if it wasn't here? – all those things, things Steve didn't normally think? Doubts that he never allowed in, that he didn't even think about, because those were things Tony worried over, not Steve.

So Steve searched for something else to think about, to chase the doubts away, to annihilate the questions which came with it.

Ah, there. Newspapers. Always a good thing, newspapers, for people who woke up after long enough a time – not because they were truthful, but because they showed you what the public opinion was, or, alternatively, what some people wanted it to be.

Besides, they didn't always lie. Just, often enough – sometimes it wasn't so much a lie as a lack of details, a lack of knowledge.

And Steve wasn't quite sure why he was thinking about that instead of simply reading the goddamn newspapers while being aware of that problem – but without, you know, thinking it out loud.

So, the goddamn newspapers.

**oOo**

Steve probably shouldn't have read the newspapers.

**oOo**

If the ghost had been here, he'd be telling him there was no point thinking that, because the reality wouldn't have been different, had Steve not read the goddamn newspapers.

But the ghost wasn't here, so he could ignore it.

Tony wasn't here either, though.

Tony wasn't here, because Tony was dead. And it was worse than back in the other timeline – or was it? – because Tony had been killed in retaliation to Steve's shooting. The Winter Soldier had been formally identified as the shooter, and – no mask, so no doubt, unless, of course, it was a rather elaborate disguise, which was always possible, but the thing was, Steve had no difficulty believing it, if Bucky had thought Tony was to blame, because Bucky had lived through some things, and still wasn't past it yet, because Steve had wondered himself if Tony had ordered the shooting, because... – and what?

In one reality, Tony was dead for Steve, and that despite everything – would Steve have died for Tony? He thought so, but he had also almost killed him in front of the Baxter Building, and the contrary wasn't true, no matter everything else Tony had done, Tony had never tried to kill him, so...

In the other reality, Tony was killed in Steve's name, and that was all there was to say about it.

Which one was the worst?

Did it even really matter, when the end result was that Tony was dead in both realities, and Steve had something to do with both facts – would it be better if Tony had died and Steve had nothing to do with it?

**oOo**

“_...and thus, in an effort to apprehend the killer, and, generally speaking, all rogue vigilantes, SHRA's new head, Henry Gyrich, has been given access to dozens of Sentinels. 'Stark believed too much of his former colleagues', Gyrich stated during his first interview in his new capacity as head of Registration, 'because he thought they could be trusted in the end, because he thought what they lacked was transparency and reports, when the truth is that they simply cannot be trusted. They proved it when they decided Stark had to die in revenge. Good intentions or not, those so-called heroes cannot be trusted any more than anyone else, and when they make mistakes, supposing Stark's murder was only a moment of error and not simple malevolence, when they make mistakes, the cost is tremendous.' Sharon Carter, the new director of SHIELD following Anthony Stark's demise and former girlfriend of Captain America, refused to comment on the upcoming armament of the SHRA forces, only stating that whether or not she believed in the legislation of Registration, it was, in the end, the law.”_

Steve didn't know what to make of that – or rather, he feared to learn what Gyrich, at the head of SHRA, was going to make in terms of damages, especially with Sentinels to do his bidding – but he didn't like the sound of what this article was saying, and he didn't like that he couldn't really deny any of what it said, even if he still didn't think Sentinels were justified.

He especially didn't like the fact that Stark's death had basically validated everything SHRA denounced – it had cost a man's life, therefore it was a concern.

He also didn't like the fact that Tony was dead, point. But, old news.

He needed to do something.

Anything. Until the others came back, he needed something to do not to think about things he couldn't do anything about.

Steve wasn't sure what he'd tell them when they came back.

**oOo**

Peter was the first one back, and, of course, the first thing he saw after “Oh, Cap, you're awake!” were the newspapers on the table, the pictures of Tony Stark's reports of death, and the one of Bucky at the scene, gun still in hand, caught on CCTV.

Things went downhill from there.

Peter stared at the newspapers as if they weren't real – or potentially talking about something else, like the proliferation of spiders and how they were entirely not related to Spider-Man, thanks, Jameson – for a moment, blinked, and eventually looked back at Steve with a tentative smile – as if to say, a problem, no, what problem? Nothing problematic here, let's move on.

As if the problem was going to go away if they ignored it stubbornly enough.

Steve had never been the type to ignore the problem – heroes generally weren't.

Steve was more the kind to stand tall and glare at the problem until it shied away.

Glaring at the newspapers wouldn't change the facts, though. Glaring at Bucky wouldn't, either. It was too late for that. Mistakes had been made, and...

And what?

Steve believed in their community's ability to police itself, in the fact that they didn't need to be policed, but would that change the fact that Tony was dead – would it have done anything, had Steve been less lenient towards Bucky after the cosmic cube brought him back? Bucky, of course, didn't deserve to be punished for what he'd been forced to do as the Winter Soldier, but maybe Steve should have pushed him to get help – not too much, but just enough. Maybe then Bucky's first reaction to seeing Steve shot would not have been to kill the assumed guilty party.

Maybe it hadn't been about what Bucky deserved, but about making sure no one else suffered from what Bucky had lived through. Making sure that Bucky himself didn't have to deal with it alone, with Steve ignoring the pro...

Oh.

The thought that came to him was deeply unpleasant, and therefore Steve shoved it under the rug of his conscious to focus on something else.

He frowned at Peter's lack of any kind of disguise – Peter looked common enough, so Steve guessed he could still blend in, but he had also gone on TV by Tony's suggestion, so – and asked an important question, which was entirely not a redirection from a potentially distressing realization.

“How is it, out there? No open chase on innocent citizens?”

Peter glanced at the interview with Gyrich, on top of the various articles, and winced – while munching on a cookie, because supermetabolisms tended to make you a glutton, Steve could testify.

“Surprisingly, not so much. I mean, okay, it's still complicated to go outside without getting arrested for people like me, read, idiots, who went and exposed themselves and then decided they might not be, in fact, okay with what it entailed, but mostly I'd have thought we'd all be in jail by, like, yesterday, now that Gyrich has Sentinels on top of everything else, but apparently the SHRA database is having issues, if Jess' sources are to be believed, you know, because it seems the database won't open without a valid reason, so they don't have access to our names unless we do something really bad. Same thing, all the videos of my face got corrupted, so they only have their memory to go by when they try to get me, and since I'm pretty forgettable...”

“But they're still preventing us from intervening, right?”

“Yeah, of course. Just, they don't have the data to go after us when we aren't intervening.”

That's...

Steve wasn't sure what it was, but it sure was weird. Stark's creations – and the SHRA database was Stark's creation – didn't just fail like that. Okay, sometimes someone managed to crack the system open, but A_ it was never a good thing for anyone and this was a good thing for them, and B_ it usually took more time before they managed to do that.

Then again, it was entirely possible that some of the supers on their side with technological skills beyond what Steve could comprehend – Tony had been one of them, once, but Tony wasn't on their side, and Tony was dead – had all tried to go after the SHRA database the moment they got the opportunity, just to take it down. Except it hadn't been taken down, it had... Its access had been restricted to lawful inquiries – what did that entail, actually? A warrant from a judge? An order by the President? A decision by the Director of SHIELD? What did a lawful inquiry of the SHRA database mean, Tony?

What qualified as a justified breach of privacy, Tony?

What assured them all that the inquiries would be justified, Tony?

How can we trust the existence of such a database, Stark?

Questions he'd asked, back when he'd thought Tony had lost it, back when he thought Stark had sold them out.

Problems that, apparently, were being handled right now – considering that the database hadn't simply been erased or taken down, Steve could only guess that, maybe, whoever had done this wasn't against its existence, and...

Someone, he supposed, was making sure that it wasn't being abused, something that Stark himself had promised them all, something that Stark hadn't seen to.

Right?

Steve almost thought he'd have to thank whoever they were, if he ever got to know their identity – except that they hadn't taken it down, they still thought it necessary, which meant they weren't on the right side. Because they'd done one thing right didn't mean everything else they were standing for wasn't utter bullshit. Just look at the nazis: they had interesting ideas about ecology and animal protection, but they were still primarily genocidal, monstruous murderers.

Steve just didn't understand how people he knew, people who had been his friends, could not see that. How Tony himself hadn't.

So he just went back to his conversation with Peter, because that, at least, he could understand.

“And the Sentinels? Are they really...?”

Peter winced around his third cookie.

“As I said, going about our daily life is still... possible, but superheroing out there is an entirely different problem. Since Gyrich got the authorization to use the Sentinels... Well. We tried to do our superhero job a few times, and all in all I'm not really certain we did any good, as we were too busy repelling the Sentinels.”

What went unsaid was that one of these days, it could be that their intervention, and the subsequent coming of the Sentinels, would deal more damage than the initial situation. That one day, maybe, they'd end up being forced to let things be, because the SHRA would have effectively cut them out of the possibility to help. That only those who'd registered would still be able to intervene.

That maybe, some of the people on Steve's side would go over to SHRA, just because their need to help would be more important than their own liberty.

Tony's ghost didn't say anything at that, but that was mainly because Tony's ghost wasn't there.

Tony's ghost was in the other reality.

Maybe Steve should start looking into this – Tony would do it for him, but Tony was dead, and Tony wasn't on his side. That was, if anything, something he could do in the mean time, before he got an idea of what to do about SHRA.

Figuring out whatever the hell was going on.

The good point, Steve thought as he watched Peter frown at the newspapers detailling more of the latest SHRA – Gyrish-version – measures against unlawful vigilantes, the good point to this bizarre situation was that he'd have intel from both sides of the timelines to compare. Maybe he could do something here with whatever he'd learn in the other timeline, and _vice-versa_.

Yes, that was what he'd do. He'd make the most of both situations to end SHRA in both timelines, with things he wasn't supposed to know but still would, thanks to the diverging timelines.

And, ideally, he'd manage to put an end to this, while also getting rid of the ghost in the other world, because he really didn't want to have a Stark he couldn't shut up by his side, for the rest of his life, telling him things he didn't want to hear.

On this end of the story, he guessed, the first thing to do would be to talk to Doctor Strange about what was going on. If magic was the cause of all of this, the magician would know what to do.

If magic wasn't, Strange would nonetheless be useful, if only because he knew things about alternate realities and whatnot.

Now if only Steve could go to Richards for that too...

**oOo**

When Steve woke up again – in the other world, in the world where Tony had died for him, and now that he was here and not there, he had the feeling that was the worst of the two deaths – the first thing he thought was that he actually could consult Richards on the matter of his rather unexplainable and unexpected twin realities, if only he managed to win his trial – whatever winning might mean here.

Maybe that he wouldn't rot in jail for about as long as he'd spent in the ice.

“_Yeah, no, Steve, unless you really, really fuck it up, that's not going to happen.”_

The second thought was, obviously, that he really didn't want to go at it again with the ghost of Stark this early in the morning.

“_You don't exactly get a choice on this, Captain.”_

Steve rolled over in his bed, and tried to bury himself in his pillow, just in case it cut off the ghost's voice.

“_So not happening, asshole.”_

Failure, then.

Steve threw the pillow away – as he opened an eye, he could even say he threw it through the ghost – and surrendered...

For now.

“What do you mean, unless I really fuck it up? I'm pretty sure they still execute traitors in this country. Seventy years in jail doesn't sound that improbable, considering.”

The ghost snorted at him.

“_Yeah, no. You're Captain America, dumbass. They could, hypothetically, justify executing you as an example that no one is above the law, not even the guy who drapes himself in the American flag, but that would be a very dumb move at this point in time. You still have too much of an influence on the people, and not only the people at that, so it's much less dangerous for the powers that be to give you a light sentence than a harsher one. You see, if the gouvernment says you are wrong, but still to be respected, they don't appear as the bad guys, especially as you went and said the exact contrary about them when you first rose up against SHRA, only to eventually bow down when confronted to the damage you'd caused. Generally speaking, it's much more prudent to qualify a respected ennemy as sadly wrong than as inherently evil. And it just so happens that, while some people are disappointed in you, they still think you are a good man, and in those people I include the very ones you went against. Therefore, your chances of being executed are barely above 0%.”_

Steve gnashed his teeth – that sounded either terribly naive, coming from a Tony-Stark-lookalike, or extremely logical, if not for the fact that Steve wasn't that naive as to think any of the people who'd engineered Registration could actually respect anything about Steve himself.

“You still think they are doing what they think is right, then.”

Steve tried to turn around as he headed for the breakfast his guards had left on the small table, so that he wouldn't have to see the ghost's – Tony's – face and reaction to that statement, but he still caught the subsequent rolling of the eyes.

“_I already told you, Steve, I am not Tony Stark. I don't know what he thought before he took a freaking bullet to the head to save your life, but if I had to take a guess, I'd say that yes, he knew for a fact that most of the people out there, even those who support SHRA, think they are doing the right thing, or at least that they think they have a right to do that. Just like, wait for it, oh, yes, you yourself, and your merry band of lawbreakers who put Manhattan on fire because they thought they were doing the right thing in claiming they didn't need to be policed and that they had the right not to be policed.”_

Steve did not break the bowl he'd just taken to pour some milk in it – Stark's voice, even though the ghost wasn't saying anything about that, sneered in his ear that most unrespected prisoners in the galaxy weren't quite so coddled, and Steve did not reply that a gilded cage was still not freedom, but only because that conversation wasn't actually happening.

“Not the same thing.”

The ghost sounded almost condescending as he answered that particular statement.

“_Of course not, Stevie. Things are never the same when they concern ourselves and not other people, are they? The people get to ask for something they would never allow against themselves, when they feel endangered by the fact that some untrained idiots can atomize their lives with just a look and never answer for it, and you get to pretend that the fact you have a right to defend your rights means you can trample over everyone else's.”_

Since Steve didn't actually have anything to answer to that without making it sound like his rights mattered more, he didn't comment on that part.

“There has to be a way to answer both concerns without... without it becoming Registration.”

“_Oooh! Does that sound like a compromise, my dear? Does that imply that sometimes, two principles, while being each as important as the other, cannot but war against each other, and that as a consequence, there is no other solution than to take away from both in order to keep them both from disappearing completely? My, Captain, mayhaps there is something to be said about compromise, then. How sad that you shall never be able to admit it to the one you tried to villainize for even thinking, for even trying to make something, anything happen, rather than allowing complete annihilation.”_

Since he, you know, died for your hide.

“I'm not talking about compromising.”

He wasn't – he also wasn't ignoring the last part, about Tony being dead for him, not at all.

No, what Steve was talking about was finding an acceptable solution for everyone, without compromising anyone's rights or principles.

The ghost looked with Tony's blue eyes at the bread Steve had just cut into two pieces, as if to point something out – what, Steve had no idea, but that was Tony all over. Always meaning more than he said, and sometimes Steve thought that was because the man couldn't manage to be honest, and sometimes he wondered if it wasn't simply that there was too much to be conveyed, and words only weren't enough – or, as the ghost kept talking about so much more than Steve could actually take in, that there wasn't enough time in the world to say everything he thought about.

“_You sure sound like that's what you're talking about, Stevie dear. And if you really aren't, I'm going to have to ask you what you actually think society is about, because there is nothing quite as compromising as living peacefully with other people.”_

Seeing as Steve was glaring at his bowl of milk – Tony would ask where was the coffee in all that, and what the milk had done to him, but the ghost wasn't Tony, Tony wasn't here, and Tony would never be anymore, because he'd taken a bullet to the head to save Steve's life – nothing more was said on the subject – for now.

Steve was starting to understand that the best way to make the ghost stop talking – at least on a particular subject, if not entirely – was to simply not answer.

Except some of the things the ghost said were damn hard to ignore and not confront – but he'd also found out that confronting the ghost wasn't always in Steve's favor, because the ghost of Tony Stark was just as infuriating as the man himself, and thus arguing with him was rarely satisfying.

The marshals came around about one hour later, and the ghost went back to commenting everything Steve did not want to contemplate about the encounter, on top of what Steve already thought on the matter – don't talk to me, Steve, they'll think you're crazy, then again, maybe you could use it to your advantage to get free, that is, if we hadn't already come to the conclusion that getting out that way is not what you are aiming for, but as we're talking about that, you have to consider the fact that they cannot know you haven't changed your mind, so keep calm and don't grunt, _et caetera_.

After they left, the ghost looked at Steve with something akin to concern – or perhaps pity, who knew? Not Steve.

“_I know you're plotting the fall of Registration using both realities, but you should really focus on getting yourself a good trial, Cap. You might not be looking at seventy years of jail, but depending on how you fare next week, you might still get a few years, or only probation. Do whatever you want in that other reality, but please, be careful here, at least for now.”_

For the first time since he'd woken up in a hospital room with a ghost of Tony Stark that no one else could see, Steve realized what exactly those words entailed – thinking back on it, there had been other times, too, but he hadn't seen it.

Not only the ghost seemed to be able to tell whatever Steve was thinking, but he also knew things that had happened in the other world, things Steve hadn't explicitly thought about in this world.

What it meant, he didn't know. But it sure as hell meant something.

**oOo**

It took him about a week from there to figure out exactly how it worked – to figure it out and to confirm his conclusions, Tony would be proud, in fact, the ghost had told him so himself, though with a sarcastic edge to his tone. He'd have asked Strange, but Strange was busy doing... things, for now. Magic things. Steve knew better than to butt in.

Anyway.

Steve woke up in a world, lived out his life here, and when he fell asleep, he woke back up in the second world, and when he fell asleep again, he woke back up in the first, and again, and again. Whether it was the night, a nap, or being knocked on the head – what? It happened – he changed worlds as soon as he fell unconscious. As far as he knew, the past was the same for both worlds.

He still didn't know if it was a dream – and which one was the dream, consequently – if there was a mastermind behind it all, if any of this at all was real.

What he knew was that he needed a way to differentiate realities the moment he woke up, which was why he took a gold wristband for the world in which Tony had died for him, and a red one for the one where Tony had died because of him.

The marshal Steve asked for the wristband – Tony's ghost too, as it was – gave him a pitying glance alongside the wristband, and Steve had no idea why.


End file.
